Behind
by Flip-flop hobbit
Summary: UPDATED-- Chapter 7 up! Erin is kept from coming to Hogwarts, then a mysterious boy comes to her rescue on a broomstick. Now at the castle, she has to catch up to the fifth years.
1. Default Chapter

Hopefully this'll be alright. First tentative step into Harry Potter fanficing. Please Review.  
  
Erin's numb fingers gripped the fork tightly as she mucked the stalls of her horses. This was her life. This was the only thing she was good for, the dirty work that her adoptive family didn't feel like doing. She dumped the soiled bedding into the muck bucket and leaned the fork against the stall wall. Erin curled her fingers into the horse's thick winter fur and waited till they warmed.  
  
"This is not my home, Angel. I don't belong here." Sighing, she dragged the bucket out of the stall. Snow sifted from the sky outside as she gave the stall a new layer of shavings. It was December, almost Christmas break. But home was no better than school, where the students teased her about not having any friends. They just never gave her a chance.  
  
She fed her only friends and then began back towards the home where she would lie silently in her bedroom. if you could call it that. She hugged her meager flannel shirt tightly around her and looked wistfully to the sky, thinking about that letter she had received five years ago. She could recall it clearly today. It was of off-white parchment with green ink addressing her and it was sealed with red wax in an emblem with an H on it.  
  
She pulled the door to the large house open and stepped into the warmth. She pushed her boots off and shrugged away her shirt.  
  
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? YOU TAKE TOO LONG IN THE BARN AND THEN LET THE DINNER BURN! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU?"  
  
"I'm sorry Dad." He wasn't her dad, not by any means. It was required of her to call him that unless she wanted her ass chapped.  
  
"SORRY MY ASS! GO TO YOUR ROOM! NO DINNER!" He fumed at the ears, if possible and his face was a deep, deep shade of red, if not purple. He was a hateful man. He'd never been good to Erin. No Christmas presents would come from him, or from her "mother". The only reason they adopted her was to have a slave that they would only pay with food and housing, no love at all.  
  
"Yes, sir." She hurried past him, but she still caught his backhand blow that was laid across her cheek. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and hurried on. She shut the door and locked it. Inside, she sat on her cot and tenderly touched her face. She gave a loud sniff and a fat tear rolled down her burning cheek. She gave a heaving sob as she pulled a letter, slightly crumpled, from under her bed. The green ink looked fuzzy before her eyes, but rubbing them, her fingers becoming wet, she saw that it wrote her name neatly, in curving handwriting. Erin Abernathy. A necklace she had owned for as long as she could remember hung swung back and forth in front of the letter. It was a simple, yet beautiful key on a golden chain, the only memory of her real parents.  
  
What could she do now? Run away to a circus? No, she was probably even to deformed for that. She didn't have the clothes or the skills to live alone in the rugged Scottish weather. She shuddered against the tears. Only recently had he come to beating her. This had been the second time. Both times had been over juvenile things, such as being in the stable too long. She wanted to scream at the world, scream at him, at them. If she did, her head would be mounted on their living room wall next week.  
  
A new wave of fresh tears flowed from her and she threw herself onto her flat, old pillow to sob the night away.  
  
McGonagall let out a deep breath. "It's happened again, Albus. The girl is being beaten."  
  
The old headmaster leaned back in his chair. "We must get her here immediately. She will be a strong witch, I believe, if only we could get her away. Any suggestions?" He asked the other professors.  
  
Professor Flitwick shook his head solemnly.  
  
"It's strange to have such a large ordeal about a girl that doesn't attend our school," Professor Snape said coldly.  
  
"Severus, she's a young witch. I sent her many a letter five years ago, with no luck. Her adoptive parents won't yield, they don't want to loose a good worker," Dumbledor said calmly. The potions teacher fell silent.  
  
"Now," continued Professor McGonagall. "How do we get her here?" The room sat in silence.  
  
"Maybe the Ministry of Magic will help?" Professor Sprout quietly inquired . "Oh, no. They are much too tied up with raids, once again, to busy themselves with getting a girl to school," McGonagall answered. The staff room fell quiet again.  
  
Suddenly Madam Hooch's eyes widened. "Do you think--? Brooms, maybe."  
  
"They would be seen, no doubt," Snape said.  
  
"Maybe not. at night and Albus, didn't you say that Potter had an invisibility cloak?" Dumbledor nodded. "Harry is the best seeker out there. And Wood, the old Gryffindor captain could do it if Harry was unwilling."  
  
"You do have a point," Professor McGonagall said.  
  
"That's it then, we will inform Harry tomorrow," Albus Dumbledor concluded. "As for now. I have to instruct Hagrid to find some prime Christmas trees. Meeting dismissed."  
  
Harry gathered his books in his arms after Transfiguration and pushed them into his bag. Turning a flower to a songbird. Riiight. he thought.  
  
"Come on, Harry. We haven't got all day," said Ron.  
  
"Actually, Potter, you can wait with me for a moment," came McGonagall's voice form her desk as she shuffled the homework that they had turned in.  
  
Hermione bit her lip. No doubt they were in trouble for last nights bought of sneaking to Hagrid's. It was simply to find out about this girl that is unable to come. Hagrid had told them all he knew, thankfully.  
  
"Weasly, Granger," Professor McGonagall said, provoking them to hurry out the door, closing it behind them. As the headed towards the dungeons, they pondered the reasoning.  
  
"Why is it only Harry? I mean, we were with him the whole time, how could she not have seen us?" Ron asked.  
  
"Maybe that's not the reason, Ron," Hermione said as if it was obvious. Ron rolled his eyes and they continued to Potions.  
  
"Yes, Professor?"  
  
She gave a sigh. "How do I say this?" Harry raised an eyebrow inquisitively as she continued. "No doubt you have heard the rumors floating about the castle of the girl who is unable to come to Hogwarts due to her adoptive parents." Harry gulped. She'd caught him. Again. "Unfortunately, she is experiencing some problems. Her father is beating her, Harry." Harry's eyes widened. Ok, maybe this wasn't about what he thought it was. "Yes."  
  
Just then, Dumbledor entered the room. "Good day, Minerva, Harry."  
  
"Hello, Professor Dumbledor, sir," Harry said. The old wizard took a seat in one of the student's chairs.  
  
"Please, continue, I'm sorry to interrupt."  
  
McGonagall went on. "We see it as out duty to bring Erin-the girl- to Hogwarts. We need your help, Harry."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes. The best way to reach her is not by any bit of transportation Muggles posses. Not even a flying car." She looked over her glasses at him, reminding him of his second year trip to Hogwarts castle. "I believe the best approach is a broomstick and so no Muggles will see, an invisibility charm, or in some lucky people's cases, an invisibility cloak."  
  
"You're asking if I will retrieve her from her home?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I-I-" Dumbledor stood.  
  
"I see where you stand, Harry. You are no doubt unwilling to miss the Christmas feast and you friend's company. It is alright." He smiled at the fifth year.  
  
"But, what about the girl, Erin?"  
  
"We will ask Oliver Wood to get her, but we need you to lend us two things. Your cloak and your Firebolt."  
  
Harry gasped. "My cloak and my Firebolt?!?!" and before he could stop himself in front of his Professor and Headmaster, "You have got to be joking." Dumbledor let out a chuckle and even Professor McGonagall smiled.  
  
"Yes, Harry. Both," Dumbledor said. "They will be in safe hands, do you not trust you old Quidditch captain?"  
  
"But doesn't Oliver have a broom of his own?"  
  
"It's a Nimbus 2001. A good broom, but not quite strong enough for two people. That's why we're calling on your Firebolt," McGonagall said quietly.  
  
Harry nodded, calming. "Alright. Just tell me when you need them."  
  
Dumbledor opened the door for him, but as he was about to leave, McGonagall called him back. "Potter." He turned. "More than one person cannot thank you enough." She handed him a bit of parchment that was an excuse for being tardy to Potions.  
  
Harry nodded, smiling. That was what would get him through the next Potions class. 


	2. Chess and Rescue

Harry studied the chessboard very carefully. His rook was in immediate danger and he perused the setup, trying to find an escape route. Ron smirked at him from across the table. Hermione sat in the big armchair by the fire, immersed in a huge book. Something she called "light reading".  
  
Professor McGonagall crawled through the entrance to the common room. "Potter," she called. He turned to her. "It is time." Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. They knew, of course, about it all. They glanced at him, then returned to what they were doing. Harry stood and quickly moved his rook forward.  
  
"Check," he said to Ron, who was looking a bit shocked. He dashed up the stone staircase to his dormitory and then with great care, took his broom from under his bed. He held it for a second, then realized what he was supposed to be doing He pulled the invisibility cloak from his trunk and pushed it into a bag. He hurried back down to the common room.  
  
It was now Ron's turn to stare hard at the board. His wizard chess pieces shuffled impatiently. Hermione peered over her book. "Come, Potter." And Harry followed McGonagall out into the hall. She walked briskly and Harry nearly jogged to keep up with her. Before he knew it, she was hopping over the trick step. Then they came to the secret entrance of Dumbledor's office.  
  
"Chocolate frog," she said and the large phoenix-like statue moved aside and a stairway spiraled upward. It made the slightest grinding noise as it began to move. Harry and McGonagall let the staircase lead them to the great oak doors of the Headmaster's office. The professor rapped upon them smartly. There was the sound of footsteps beyond it and then it silently opened.  
  
Dumbledor stood, gazing happily at them. "Come in! Come in!" he said and opened the door wide, welcoming them. They stepped into the vast, warm office. Fawkes gave a cheery cry at the sight of Harry.  
  
"Hello, Fawkes," he said stoking the bird as it settled on his shoulder. Then he caught sight of another character. One who's pep talks before Quidditch had been sorely missed, despite the fact that the team groaned at the thought before hand.  
  
"Oliver!" The older boy turned.  
  
"Harry! My seeker!" Harry grinned. McGonagall and Dumbledor looked on, a smile on their faces. The Quidditch players greeted each other with a warm handshake. "How's practice been for you?"  
  
"Oh, all right. The Slytherin Nimbus 2001's are being outstripped by the Firebolt and we still have far better players." Oliver beamed.  
  
"Ah, I knew you would."  
  
"But we need a better keeper. Colin Creevey isn't doing so well." The smile on Oliver's face shattered on the floor.  
  
"Colin. Creevey? He took my position?" he gasped.  
  
"He hasn't bungled it too much. No worries, Oliver."  
  
Oliver sighed, but the distressed look disappeared. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Nice to see you again, anyway. Er. I guess you know why we're here, don't you?"  
  
Dumbledor stepped forward. "You know how news gets around Hogwarts, Wood. I wouldn't be surprised if Harry was the first to know. Harry, would you please give Oliver the broom and the cloak?"  
  
Harry opened the bag and pulled out the silvery, liquid-like material. "Here you are." He handed it to Oliver. For once, he looked interested in something other than Quidditch. "And here." Oliver took the broom with great care, his eyes as big as saucers.  
  
"I. I get to fly this?" Harry laughed and nodded. Wood breathed on it and shined it with his shirt. "Incredible." Then snapping to, he added with a grin, "And rescue a damsel in distress, too!" Harry laughed.  
  
"Here is the address," McGonagall held up a piece of parchment. "The sooner, the better, Oliver." He nodded, now solemn and quiet. She also tucked a bag into his arms containing a fresh change of Hogwarts attire and lemon drops, compliments of Dumbledor.  
  
"Make sure your feet are covered with the cloak as well," Harry instructed. Oliver nodded.  
  
"Professors," he acknowledged them. "I guess I'll be leaving you now."  
  
"Good luck," McGonagall said . Dumbledor smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Fly safely. Harry, would you show Oliver out?"  
  
Harry nodded and they left the office. Harry knew the way to the Headmaster's office quite well. He went down a flight of stairs and took a left down a wide corridor to the front doors. He pushed it open and shuddered in the chill air that whipped snow into his face. Oliver quickly got on the broom.  
  
"Take care, Harry. I'll be back soon." Harry nodded.  
  
"Good luck, Oliver."  
  
He shook his head. "She's got to be a better keeper than Creevey." With that, he threw the cloak about him and the broom, disappearing into the air. "G'night, Harry." There was the swishing sound of the broom leaving the ground and he was gone.  
  
"Finish up!" Erin quickly folded a shirt and set it on the pile. She scooped up the two piles and dashed upstairs to distribute them to their owner's rooms. Her pile consisted of a few tee shirts, a couple flannel shirts and some very baggy pants. She clattered down the stairs to find herself face-to-face with her adoptive parents.  
  
"I'm finished," she said breathlessly.  
  
The long-faced, too-thin woman jerked her head towards the kitchen. "Soup's on the stove. When you're done, go to bed." Erin slipped quietly passed them. Silence. something she had mastered in her early years of living with these people for obvious reasons.  
  
She ladled the soup into a bowl with raw hands. Pulling muck buckets was not a kind thing to cold, numb hands. She bolted it down as her stomach growled miserably. She took another bowl, which she consumed a bit more slowly, but not much. Knowing she couldn't take long, Erin rinsed her dishes and set them in the dishwasher. Then, making sure she didn't block her caretakers' view of the screen, she made her way back up the stairs and into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth quickly and then scooted into her meager bit of a room. She closed the door behind her, happy for the quiet and the solitude. She looked into her mirror and put her fingers to the dark spot that had erupted on her cheekbone.  
  
Even if she had makeup, it wouldn't matter. Nothing could cover that beauty up. Sighing, she pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and let the golden brown mass cascade over her shoulders. She was a pretty girl of fifteen. Her feminine complexion and hazel eyes were quite attractive, though no boy at her high school would even acknowledge her existence.  
  
She snuggled under her covers and stared out the window. Being alone was being happy.  
  
Or was she alone? A gentle tapping came from her window and there were no branches to be blown against it to create the noise. Erin stood and, puzzled, crossed her floor to her window. She stopped before the window and the tapping resumed, this time a bit more frantic. A murmur also came from beyond the pane of glass. The wind roared. Was that it?  
  
Erin opened the window the slightest bit and a hushed voice came. "Just open the window. I won't hurt you." She thought for a second. It was risky, but nothing could be worse than her "parents". If she was lucky, it was someone from the magical world.  
  
She threw her window open and took the screen out, a bitter draft filling the place. She stepped away, shivering uncontrollably. Suddenly, the screen was replaced and the window shut. She gasped. What was this? Some kind of trick?  
  
A boy suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Erin pressed herself against the wall in surprise and fright. "Who-who are you?" He had a silvery article over his arm and a broom on his back. "Are you from the wizarding world?"  
  
He chuckled at her fright. "Yes, I am. There is no need to be scared. I'm here to take you there."  
  
"This is.it's life though. Not a fairy tale," she said in startled amazement.  
  
"And do I need to ask what that letter beneath your bed says?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She stared in disbelief. Not only was he a wizard and he knew everything about her, he was downright gorgeous. He laughed again. "Here. you must be cold. Put these on." He handed her the extra clothes that McGonagall had managed to find in the Hogwarts laundry. Speechless, yet trusting, Erin slid into the hall and back into the bathroom and quickly switched clothes. The cloak was long and warm and the sweater beneath fuzzy. The skirt was the best fitting she'd ever worn and the shoes, nice black Mary Janes. Oh how she had pleaded to have some when she was young before she gave up, convinced that her life was nothing to those who adopted her.  
  
Oliver shook himself. Oliver, she's a fifth year. You can't start liking girls years younger than you. Yet she was. Beautiful. There was no other word for it.  
  
Erin came back into her room, not believing what was happening to her. "Here." The boy thrust the bag that once contained the clothing in it into her hands. "Pack all you need. Quickly, too." She shoved her necessities into the bag: toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, mirror, and her one book that she had been able to buy with her own money.  
  
"Come, you have five years of Hogwarts material to catch up on." The older boy swung his leg over the broomstick.  
  
"That can actually fly?" Erin asked doubtfully.  
  
"Of course. Hop on." Erin clambered on nervously and the wizard flung the silvery cloak about them. "Tuck your feet in. Don't want to be seen." Erin looked down and realized that she couldn't bee seen. All this had to be a dream. Pure imagination. Tomorrow, she would wake up in her own drafty room and go to the same high school. It would all be the same.  
  
The broomstick lifted off the ground and they maneuvered out the window. When they had, they turned around and put it back as it was. "Hang on," the boy whispered over his shoulder. Erin tightened her grip about his ribs and the Firebolt zipped into the dim dusk. 


	3. The Sorting Hat

OK, people. I'm sorry for some of the mistakes I've made in the first two chapters, as in spelling Dumbledore without an e. It's a simple mistake, but I will try very hard to remember to keep that in mind, but no guarantees, for I have the WORST memory. But anyway, Lemon Drop requested this chapter as well as Kat. By the way, Oliver is MINE! Lolol. jk. Well, here you are!  
  
Minutes of happy silence ticked by. Erin found herself quite comfortable on a broom with this mysterious lad. It was like E.T. or something.  
  
"So," he said as they flew peacefully over the moors. "What's your name?"  
  
"Erin."  
  
"Very pretty. Do you know anything aboot the wizarding world?" His Scottish accent kicked in.  
  
"No. I don't know about my parents or anything.  
  
"Oh dear. You have a lot to catch up on. I can't say aboot your parents, but I do know quite a lot aboot our world. What do you want to know?" She set her chin on his shoulder and thought.  
  
"Hogwarts. I'm quite curious about it."  
  
"Ah. Hogwarts is quite an amazing place. There are four houses: Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin." He seemed to grimace at the latter, but due to the fact that they were invisible, Erin couldn't tell. "I was in Gryffindor. I've since graduated. Slytherin is infamous for their bad wizards. They don't care for Muggle-borns in fact, many wish them dead."  
  
"Muggle-borns?"  
  
"A Muggle is a non-magic person. Muggle-borns are witches or wizards who's parents have no magic blood in them."  
  
"Oh. What kind of classes are there, then?"  
  
"There's plenty to learn at school. Muggle studies, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Quidditch."  
  
"Quidditch?"  
  
Oliver gasped. "You don't know aboot Quidditch? Well. of course you don't. It's a wizard sport with fourteen players on broomsticks and four balls. The first is the Snitch, originally the Golden Snidget bird. More on that in Quidditch Through the Ages." and the young fellow began the long explanation of the game, rules, players, etceteras. Not a bit of it was boring to Erin. She became immersed in his words.  
  
When he had run out of things to say, she smiled. "That might be interesting."  
  
"Aye. that's an understatement."  
  
"How am I to catch up with fifth years?"  
  
"You'll be talking to Dumbledore aboot that. I can't say."  
  
"And Dumbledore is.?"  
  
The boy gave a low whistle. "Wow. You are a bit behind. Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. Best one that the school has ever had. Amazing man, he is."  
  
Erin gazed at the ground below her. Good thing she wasn't afraid of heights. Any second now, she thought. I'll wake up in my own little bed with Mother screeching in my ear to go and feed the horses.  
  
"Will I need any books?" she asked.  
  
"Yes. Of course, you'll have to take a trip to Hogsmede or Diagon Ally."  
  
"Diagonally?"  
  
"Well. sort of. It's Diagon. Ally."  
  
"Strange."  
  
"Indeed. You'll have to get a cauldron, books, a wand, maybe a pet. Owls are the best, mind you. Very useful for carrying your letters."  
  
"I haven't any money. How do I buy school supplies without money?"  
  
"Uh. Dumbledore will have to tell you that." She laughed a bit at his uncertainty. Why had she so quickly trusted him? She didn't know him the slightest bit. It was all so dream-like. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep against the mysterious chap's shoulder.  
  
"Erin, Erin, wake up!" There it was. The dreaded call. Times to roll her so called "sorry ass" out of bed and go feed the horses. Mother must have a cold, Erin thought. Her voice has never been this gentle. She opened her eyes slowly.  
  
"Hogwarts." Erin gasped. It hadn't been a dream after all! She couldn't believe it! She looked below her. A tremendous castle towered by the bank of a lake that shimmered in the lights that shone from the spires. Snow was quietly falling from the sky above. This was too perfect.  
  
They flew down and landed gracefully on the lawn. Feeling shaky, Erin slid off the broom and the other rider took the cloak from their shoulders. "Welcome to Hogwarts." And he offered her his elbow in a gentlemanly gesture. She accepted and they strode towards the doors. Before they got there, they had swung open and an elderly witch stood in the door. Her face turned into a crinkly smile.  
  
"Professor, I found her. Erin, this is Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher."  
  
"Oh. Er. Nice to meet you."  
  
"It's my pleasure," McGonagall assured and she opened the door wider. "Everyone leaves tomorrow for home except, of course, those who decided to stay." Erin smiled weakly. She now realized how nervous she was. They followed the professor down a grand hall in which stood coats of armor that.. moved!  
  
"Ah!" Erin yelped. McGonagall turned.  
  
"It's just the armor, Erin," the boy whispered in her ear. She laughed at the incident. They continued on to two doors that stood open to reveal four tables lined with students. Erin came closer to the young man. As they entered, McGonagall said over her shoulder, "This is the Great Hall." All students went silent and turned.  
  
There was a head table in front of the four house tables. An ancient man stood. He had a great silver bushy beard and half-moon spectacles. His dark purple robes swirled about his ankles. "May I have your attention please. I would like to welcome a newcomer to our castle. It is not a painting or another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher or even one of our beloved ghosts. (Ron leaned over to Harry. "Since when was Moaning Myrtle "beloved"?) He motioned her forward. She gathered her courage and sent herself forward at the elbow of her rescuer. "This is Erin Abernathy and this feast is in her honor. Probably to her displeasure," he winked at her. "She will have to be sorted as all of have, unfortunately by herself." She felt her eyes widen.  
  
"No need to be frightened," he said to her as a stool and a very ragged witch's hat was brought out.  
  
McGonagall sat the stool on the stone floor and set the hat atop it. "You will sit on the stool and I will place the Sorting hat on you head. It will out you into the house that will best suit you." Seeing her resistance, Oliver gently pushed her forward. Erin perched herself on the stool and the Sorting hat was lowered over her eyes.  
  
"Hmmm.." Said a voice in her ear. "Latecomer I see. Well, you have courage that's quite obvious. A good student. And most honest. Ah. yes. GRYFFINDOR!!!" Erin pulled it off and set it back on the stool as the table to her left exploded in cheers. She couldn't help the grin that broke over her face. This was too perfect. The bearded man was clapping happily and McGonagall was taking the stool and Sorting hat away.  
  
"It's good to see you again, Professor Dumbledore," the older boy said to the old wizard when everything had calmed. Erin turned away and headed toward her new house table.  
  
She sat before three other Gryffindors her age. One boy with flaming red hair and beside him a girl who was quite pretty with bushy brown hair. Beside her was another boy with jet-black hair and glasses that didn't hide his bright green eyes. There was an unusual lightning bolt scar on his forehead.  
  
The first boy stuck out his hand. "I'm Ron Weasley, house Prefect." Erin shook it thankfully. Friends, she thought. Something she had never had.  
  
The girl smiled. "I'm Hermione Granger."  
  
"The whiz kid."  
  
"Shut up, Ron! Okay, I admit, I'm a little into learning, but there has not been a single time in which it didn't help them." She glanced daringly at Ron. "I'll be glad to help you with anything." Erin was so surprised that everyone liked her here.  
  
The last boy was finally up to bat. "Harry, Harry Potter."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Erin said. Everyone turned to stare and Harry Potter looked like he was about to hug her. 


	4. Of Drumsticks and Rib Bruising

Sorry for any delay, not that many people are reading this. This chapter is kinda funny and sweet. Please review. Thanks, ya'll.  
  
"Um.?' Erin looked around nervously.  
  
Harry beamed at her. "It's just. ya' know. Most people know my name by heart." "I-I guess I'm new.'  
  
"No, I mean, everyone knows it. Every witch and wizard in the world." Erin saw Oliver sit by two red-haired, seventh-year twins. He waved at her. She returned it.  
  
"I'm completely new to the wizarding world. I mean.."  
  
Harry waved it off. "So was I. Let me explain. Some wizards go bad. Way bad. There was a wizard named Tom Riddle once. He was, of course, in Slytherin-"  
  
There was a tinking sound from the front of the room. Dumbledore stood. "Let the feast begin," he said and the platters blossomed with food. Erin's eyes grew wide. "How do they do that?!?!"  
  
"House elves work in the kitchen downstairs." Ron ladled some mashed potatoes onto his plate. "They prepare the food." Hermione glared. "They set it on the tables that are directly beneath us and kind of. teleport it up." Hermione sipped from her goblet, scowling. Ron took a mouthful of the food. "Hermione here dislikes the use of house elves as 'slaves.'" Hermione set her jaw.  
  
"Well, it's not right."  
  
Erin poured herself some of the drink that the others were gulping into her goblet. She sniffed it tentatively. "Harry, before you continue. um.. What is this?"  
  
"Pumpkin juice," Harry said. "It's quite good. Give it a try." She took a sip. It was excellent.  
  
"Ok," she said, pouring herself some more and reaching for a plate of turkey. "I think it's vital to my survival to hear your story, so Harry, if you would, please go ahead." She was soon engulfed in the tales of the three friends. It was amazing. She never knew that there could be a world where such incredible things happen.  
  
"..And I felt my life leaving me. Tom just threw back his head and laughed. Then Fawkes flew down and lay beside me. He began to cry-"  
  
"And phoenix tears have healing powers," Hermione interjected.  
  
"So when my strength returned and I was well I took up the fang of the basilisk and thrust it into the diary. Tom screamed and then was just. gone."  
  
"Then my sister, Ginny," Ron pointed down a couple of seats to another redhead, a girl in her fourth year. "She woke up and Fawkes carried us all, including Professor Lockhart up the pipes back to the school. Hagrid came back, Hermione woke up, we got awards for special services to the school, Lockhart left, and end of the year exams were cancelled." Ron grinned. "It was great."  
  
Erin buttered a roll. "Are you guys making this up? It's just so.. Incredible."  
  
"No," Hermione smiled. "Just wait 'til you hear about out third year. But right now, I'd like to know about you." The others nodded in agreement and Erin set down her roll.  
  
"Well, first of all, I'm amazed that anyone would care so much for me to take me away from where I lived. It's a feeling I don't know very well." She smiled weakly. "It seems like something an author would dream up."  
  
"What was your home like?" Harry asked gently.  
  
"I wouldn't call it home. I was adopted before my memory by a couple which turned out to have brought me in from the orphanage to make me slave away and do the work they didn't want to do. My clothes were always big and ugly. No one in my high school liked me at all. Then the people, who forced me to refer to them as my parents, they kept getting meaner and meaner. Then." her voice quieted to something that the other three could hardly make out over the babble of the rest of the students. "Then he started hitting me." She turned her face toward the table and concentrated on spreading butter evenly over both sides of the roll. She set her knife down and sighed sadly. Harry reached across the table and rested his hand over hers. It was nothing more than a friendly, comforting gesture.  
  
"It's okay. They're far away now. Right now, you have Hogwarts, which I believe is the best place in the world. Let's worry about catching you up to fifth years and introducing you to the school." Erin looked up and smiled. She hadn't been crying, but only just. "Thank you, Harry. Friendship is something I never have had."  
  
Ron waved the last of a drumstick around. "Lots of people find that to be true until they come to Hogwarts." Erin nodded and pushed away any earlier thoughts. Harry pulled his hand away to point over to where the redhead girl sat.  
  
"That's Ginny, Ron's sister and over there," he pointed to the twins. "That's Fred and George. Can't hardly tell them apart and they'll give you a time about it, but they're great guys."  
  
Hermione pointed to a nearby boy. "This is Seamus Finnigin, he's a fifth year too." Seamus waved.  
  
"Hey Seamus," Erin said.  
  
"And there beside him is Neville Longbottom," Ron pointed the chicken bone at the dumbfounded-looking boy that sat next to Seamus. He lowered his voice. "Be careful not to sit next to him in Charms. Might blow you up." The others sniggered and a sudden puff of smoke erupted from Neville's wand that he had been waving around.  
  
"I think the Weasley twin's spell is faulty," he coughed through the smoke. "My toad still isn't yellow!"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Fred and George are at it again."  
  
Hermione dutifully pointed out each teacher. "That's Snape, he teaches Potions and Professor Sprout has Herbology in the greenhouses on the grounds. McGonagall, whom you have met, teaches Transfiguration.."  
  
Finally setting the bone on his plate Ron wiped his hands. "Snape is head of the Slytherin house. Worst teacher here, I say. McGonagall is our head. Strict as hell, but fair enough." He frowned. "She catches us too much."  
  
"Nick!" Oliver called. A transparent.  
  
"Oh my God. Is that a ghost?" Erin gasped.  
  
"Oh yeah," Seamus said. "We've got house ghosts too. Nearly Headless Nick is ours."  
  
"Nearly headless? How can you be nearly headless?" Erin raised her brow.  
  
Hermione grimaced. "Blunt ax."  
  
The ghost turned to the boy. "It seems like forever! So nice to see you again. On business?"  
  
Erin flushed when the boy pointed down the table, smiling broadly. "I've brought a late student in. Her name's Erin." Nick looked.  
  
"Ah! I'll go and meet her. Good luck with Quidditch!" And the ghost began floating towards Erin. "Hallo! I'm Sir Nicholas deMimsy Porpington, Nick for short. I wanted to get aquatinted."  
  
"Hello Nick," Erin said getting over the shock of seeing a ghost. "I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you from here on out.."  
  
The Weasley twins caught Oliver smiling down the table toward the new girl. "Oliver!" Fred elbowed him back to the present.  
  
"Huh!? Oh." He seemed to concentrate on the last little bit of pumpkin juice at the bottom of his goblet.  
  
"You fancy her, don't you Oliver?" George asked quietly. Oliver pushed the goblet away but refused to look his best friends in the eye. "Come on Oliver. It's alright. She's a pretty little one." Oliver risked a glance down the table again. Erin twisted up her face at first glance of Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts. He almost laughed.  
  
"I don't think we need to ask," Fred said, smirking. Oliver leaned back in his chair and beckoned them with a nod of his head to move closer. Fred stopped smiling.  
  
"Have you ever had that feeling when it's just... It's just right? That they're for you?" he whispered, looking away.  
  
George's face broke into a grin. "Oliver, I've never known you to love anything but Quidditch before!" He was dealt a blow to the ribs.  
  
Fred rested his hand on Oliver's shoulder and cast a glance down the table, then back at Oliver, down the table, and back. "Oliver.. I see this happening." He smiled in that wily, Weasley-twin way.  
  
Oliver scoffed. "It was so crazy to simply be around her. I haven't even told her my name. Every time I tried, it would get stuck in my throat." Fred's hand slipped from it's resting place on Wood's shoulder. The twins were suddenly both strangely serious.  
  
"George, I'm afraid we're dealing with a case of love at first sight." His turn to get a whack in the ribs. "No.. ow... I'm trying to help. Whether you know it or not.. She likes you, too Oliver."  
  
Oliver looked up. "What?"  
  
"I've watched her. She looks down here just as much as you look her way."  
  
George nudged him. "Take a look now." Oliver looked unsure for a minute until the twins thrust him forward. She was indeed looking hopefully his way. She colored when he looked at her  
  
"Probably asking... Geroff!" He shoved them away and leaned back. "She's probably asking Harry Potter who the hell I am."  
  
"Good grief!" Fred said. "How many times can you ask?" He grinned at the former Quidditch captain. "Trust us."  
  
The Great Hall was dismissed from dining and Ron Weasley stood. From down the table the three friends could hear his voice. "Follow me, Gryffindors!"  
  
Oliver smiled. "Things have changed. I guess I'll go up with you and you people can see me off."  
  
"Oh right."  
  
"That isn't the reason, Oliver."  
  
Two good blows to the ribs. 


	5. The Commonroom

Madam Pompfrey took Erin aside. "Could I have you in the hospital wing for a short bit? It's only to get you cleaned up."  
  
Hermione was suddenly at Erin's shoulder. "I'll go with her," she said to the two others. "You go ahead and save us a seat in the common room." The boys nodded and turned to go, talking about how cool it was to have another Gryffindor. The girls hurried to keep up with Madam Pomfrey. Hermione assured Erin that it couldn't be anything serious.  
  
Once they got to the well-lit room Madam Pomfrey instructed her to sit on a bed. She obeyed immediately, having grown accustomed to harsh bouts of yelling when she didn't. She sat with such suddenness that Hermione jumped back a little.  
  
"Sorry," Erin muttered.  
  
"It's alright." Hermione smiled, trying to comfort the new girl.  
  
Madam Pompfrey bustled over with a small jar in her hand. "Now, this won't hurt a bit. You just hold on." She opened it. It was full of a bluish cream that she dipped her finger in and tilted Erin's head to one side. Erin read the label. Bertha's Bruise Be-Gone. Right, she thought and felt the nurse rub it over her cheek. It tingled and she felt the soreness begin to recede. Hermione smiled as the bruise lost it's color, going a grayish then a sickly yellow, finally fading into the color of Erin's skin. "Good as new," Madam Pomfrey chimed. "Now eat your chocolate and be on your way to your house." She pushed a large chunk of chocolate from Hogsmede in her hand. Chocolate, Erin thought. I don't know what it tastes like. She nibbled a bit off the corner and tested the sweet. It warmed her and made her feel comfortable in the strange, new place. She took another bite off of the chunk and arose. Madam Pomfrey shooed them out the door and Erin followed Hermione to up staircases and through corridors to a portrait of a large lady in a pink dress.  
  
"Pigglestone," Hermione said and to Erin's surprise, the Fat Lady smiled and the portrait swung forward to show a room in which a fire blazed and Gryffindors lounged. "This is the common room. You'll have to remember the password to get past the Fat Lady or else you won't be able to get in. This is where we do homework and have celebrations if we win a Quidditch game and just generally socialize. The girl's dorm is up the stairs and to the left. Boys to the right."  
  
Erin gazed around at the tapestries that hung around the walls and the dark shiny wood of the tables and chairs set up on the edges of the room. "Hermione." Harry sat in an armchair near the fire, Ron beside him. There were two other seats. They made themselves comfortable and Hermione looked disapprovingly at the fire that was dwindling in the grate. She held out her wand and muttered something beneath her breath. A jet of orange shot out of her wand and the fire was immediately roaring again.  
  
"So." Harry said after pushing the last of a chocolate frog in his mouth. "What did you do for fun?"  
  
Erin shrugged. "I rode horses when I could."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened. "Really? What was it like? The closest I've come is a unicorn." Erin blushed. "It's.. wonderful really. One of the most beautiful feelings in the world." The four were launched into conversation about horseback riding among other things that related to Erin. Ron was especially curious as how to use every day household appliances. ("Now, how does e-mail work?") He was like his dad every now and again.  
  
Slowly, everyone went up to the dorms to gather their stuff to head home on the train the next day. "Don't worry, we're staying here too. It's actually quite fun without the great mass of people." Harry said. Erin was glad of this. To be left alone in an unfamiliar castle with no one to guide her was too much to even think about.  
  
The boy who brought Erin came down from the seventh-year boy's dorm. No doubt talking to the redheaded twins. "Harry," he said. "Here's your broom. It was a great flight. Incredible turning and great speed." Harry took it.  
  
"You're more than welcome."  
  
"And, your," he looked around to see that no one else was there. Coast clear, he continued. "Cloak." Harry took the folded Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes just to make sure no one would see it if they came bursting in.  
  
"Hermione, Ron," he said, nodding to each one in turn. Oliver closed his eyes for a split second longer than a blink. He turned to face Erin. Hermione was the one to interpret.  
  
"Harry, Ron. it's getting quite late. I'm heading up." She looked at them with a note of urgency and daring.  
  
"Er. I guess we'll be talking," Ron said. "See ya'" Oliver waved and three pairs of shoes clattered up the stairs, their owners whispering among themselves.  
  
The boy had his own broom slung over his shoulder, a Nimbus 2001. He looked at Erin, directly at her eyes except. almost through them. He took a deep breath. "Good luck," he said, smiling nervously and touching her arm for a second. Erin nodded, also smiling. "Try out for the Quidditch team." He began to look about, avoiding eye contact. "Uh.. Colin Creevey took my place momentarily and Gryffindor isn't, uh, doing so well."  
  
"I will." And after a moment's pause, "For you." Finally, his brown eyes met hers again. He touched her arm again, this time he let his hand rest there. Erin was pleading to the heavens for something more to happen. She moved into his arms.  
  
"All I ever loved was Quidditch," he whispered, closing his eyes and biting his lip. "It was always Quidditch." She remained silent just closed her eyes with him. She felt his warm breath against her cheek as he moved his face closer to hers. Was this too fast? She asked herself. No. No. She felt okay with it. It was at the exact right time, when she completely relaxed that he bent and gave her a gentle kiss upon the lips. He lingered for just a second before they opened their eyes and it was over.  
  
He picked up his cloak, which lay on a nearby chair and threw it on. He turned to look at her once more. "Goodbye Erin." He left through the entrance behind the portrait of the Fat Lady. Erin watched him go and suddenly felt something wrong. As the portrait swung back into place behind him she whispered, unable to speak clearly, "Wait." But he was gone. Her brow furrowed and she finished the thought in another hushed sentence. "What's your name?" She pursed her lips as if to savor the taste and forbid herself to forget that moment. 


	6. The Wand

I'm sorry that this has been delayed. I've had a lot to think about lately, so I hope everyone forgives me. Heehee.  
  
Erin coughed as she slid out onto the hearth of the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione offered her a hand, and Erin flinched under the misunderstood gesture. "Sorry," she mumbled. Hermione smiled and pulled the other girl to her feet.  
  
"I hate that stuff!" Harry spluttered, falling out onto the floor himself, Ron right after him. "Never again! Never!" He stood and brushed himself off.  
  
The troop stepped out into the street. Professor McGonagall had given them all the leave (after much careful persuading from Hermione in which she argued that they had the permission slips for Hogsmeade and whatnot) to take Erin to Diagon Ally.  
  
"Well, I suppose we must go to Gringotts first. Dumbledor assured me that you would have an account," Hermione confirmed, and then marched up the street, leading the way.  
  
Erin gazed about at the shops lining the street in awe. She had never seen anything like this. There was Quality Quidditch Supplies, an eyrie of owls and flacons, a shop of robes, and at the end of them all, a great white building that leaned heavily to one side with a set of steps leading up to the from door that was titled with a grand sign that said simply: Gringotts Wizard's Bank. They climbed these steps and went inside the warm building.  
  
"Um. Ron," Erin whispered. "What are those things?"  
  
"Oh. Those are just goblins. Don't worry about them." Ron shrugged but Erin was not having pleasant inward thoughts. They approached a counter behind which a goblin sat, stamping away at various pieces of parchment. The one before them ceased the rhythmic stamping and looked at them.  
  
"A bit late for Hogwarts students, is it not?" it said.  
  
"We have a new student that came in late and needs supplies. Her name is Erin Abernathy and we need to get to her vault," Harry said.  
  
"And does Erin Abernathy have her key?" Hermione grimaced and Harry looked worried and bit his lip. Ron looked like he was about to beat his head upon the counter. No one had remembered the key.  
  
"Yes, she does." Erin pushed up from behind them and pulled a key from under her shirt. "Here," she said and slid the key off it's chain and handed it to the goblin. He looked closely at it, then nodded.  
  
*~*  
  
"Okay," Harry said, stepping out of Flourish and Blotts, carrying some of Erin's books in a cauldron. "I say you get a owl."  
  
"Harry," Hermione rebutted. "Erin still has to get a wand. That's much more important than any old owl. Here, Erin, how much do you have left?" Hermione counted the Sickles, Knuts, and Galleons in her head.  
  
"See, now? That's plenty enough for an owl and a wand," Ron said. "Come on, Erin. Do you want an owl? They're great for sending letters back and forth to people."  
  
"I-I guess so. Sure." Ron took her by the wrist and dragged her into Eeylops Owl Emporium. Erin looked questioningly at Hermione, who just shrugged, rolled her eyes and sighed. Harry and Ron were pointing out different birds that she might get while Erin looked about and had her eye caught by two lamp-like eyes. She strode over to them and from within their cage a quiet hoot came out. In the dim light, she could see that it was light gray and kind of small. She talked to it quietly and it hooted again. "Hey, guys." The others came over. "What about this one? He's on sale."  
  
"Probably sick, then. Don't get him," Ron said.  
  
"But I like him," Erin protested. She lifted down the cage and the owl nibbled at her fingers. "I don't think he's sick. I'm going to get him." She took him to the cashier and paid for him. Then, throwing one of her new cloaks over the cage, went out into the sunlight and light snow again.  
  
"Now, for the wand," Hermione said and pointed across the street to a shabby looking shop with a sign that said Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.  
  
"That guy's been around a while," Erin commented. The others laughed a little and they entered the dimness of the shop.  
  
"Ah. Erin. I've been looking for you. A little late, I see. That's all understandable," said a little old man coming from behind a shelf. "It seems only yesterday that your mother walked in those doors just as you did. Such a shame about the accident."  
  
"If I may ask.. What accident?" Erin inquired.  
  
"I see. Unfortunate collision during Quidditch practice. She was the best keeper Scotland ever had, you know. That Oliver Wood is almost beating her though. Brilliant player that Wood. Anyway.. I'm sure you didn't come in here to talk about Quidditch." Then he hurried down an aisle of shelves. Slowly, he took a box down from one of them and brought it to her.  
  
"Now you must remember that the wand chooses the wizard, not vice versa. Here, give this one a swish. Yew. Unicorn hair and dragon heartstring." Erin took it, and waved it a bit, an explosion coming from the tip and causing bubbles to come out of Ron's nose.  
  
"No, no.. I don't think so. Maple and pheonix feather." He handed her another. This time, Ron was left in a foul-smelling puff of smoke. "No. Definitely not. How about this one. An elf suggested this to me. Handsome fellow, he was, picked out a nice branch for me too. Off a tree I fear I will never see again. Mallorn, he called it. Yes, he even supplied one of his hairs for it. Said he was the prince of some wooded realm." Ron's robes were on fire in no time and he was cursing the wand shop. "Absolutely not!" cried Ollivander.  
  
"Holly and unicorn hair." Ron ducked in time to have a great jet of purple flames fly over him.  
  
"Swish that way, next time!" He complained.  
  
"Ah.. This is an odd one. Thirteen inches long with a core of the hair off of a Thestral winged horse. They say they're bad luck, but I wouldn't believe it. Here, give it a flick."  
  
Erin took it, but was overcome with heat and she saw an abusive hand come towards her and a white horse. The sound of a stinging slap echoed through her head and she cried out against it. She dropped the wand and fell back against a bookcase behind her and saw no more.  
  
~*~  
  
"Give her room," Ollivander ordered. Erin woke up and looked hurriedly about.  
  
"What happened?" she asked. "What just happened to me?"  
  
"You had some sort of vision," Harry said. "And you created a Patronus against it. I don't know how, though."  
  
"This is no doubt her wand, but she is powerful with it and she must learn to keep that power under control. There is one to help her.." His voice faded off. "Look for the one who stays with two and knows the wind. They can help her." 


	7. The Devils and the Angel

"Sucks for you," Ron said.  
"Ron! You're not helping at all," scolded Hermione. "Professor Snape isn't that bad, honestly."  
"Yeah, actually he is," Harry confirmed.  
"Okay, so maybe so. You just have to keep your mouth shut and be precise about everything. Not just your potions, but your homework and getting to class on time. Follow directions."  
Erin was looking frightened. "Speaking of being on time," Harry said. "You might want to hurry on."  
Hermione looked at her watch. "He's right. Come on, Erin. I'll show you to the dungeon." They climbed out of the hole behind the fat lady and made their way down a staircase. There was a grinding above as other sets of stairs clicked into different positions. Erin glanced at them and clutched her books tighter, hurrying behind Hermione as they made their way down stone halls and twisting stairs to the dungeons. A ghost passed through the hall in front of them and Erin had a shiver run down her spine. She wasn't quite used to the non-living inhabitants of Hogwarts yet, though Nick was a most enjoyable person to talk with.  
Hermione stopped before a heavy wooden door with torches by its side. "This is it," she said. "Just do everything exactly as you are told and no harm can come to you." Erin swallowed hard and nodded, then she went in with a whisper of "Good luck!" coming from behind her. Erin's footsteps seemed to announce her coming like a battle horn blowing, but no one was in the room and it was deathly silent. She set her books down by a cauldron at the front.  
"P—Professor?"  
A man came out of the office door and slammed it behind him, black robes swirling around him and his long, greasy black hair framing his grim face. He had beetle-like eyes, thin lips, and jowls. "Sit down!"  
Erin rocketed into her chair. "The name is Erin, is it?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Open your book to the first potion and tell me what you see."  
She fumbled with the crisp pages until she came to page five. "Um.... The love potion, sir."  
The professor braced himself on her desk with his arms. "Do you have any need for that, Miss Abernathy?" She sank away from his cold, hard eyes. Did he know? Had he found out about her kiss in the common room? Surely is was just a coincidence. Right? How could he know, though? "Answer me or do you always have such problems answering simple questions?" She snapped into the present, her face ridiculously close to Professor Snape's.  
"N—No, sir."  
"Good. Next potion." He walked back towards his desk as she turned the page. "Go ahead and start it. It's not that difficult." She nodded and quickly got to work, studying the recipe carefully, making sure everything was in the right order. She measured carefully and avoided eye contact with Snape, who peered over her shoulder to unnerve her. The concoction was slightly off color when she finished it, but Snape nodded in approval. "That'll be the frog's eggs. You miscounted them. More precise next time, Miss Abernathy."  
"Yessir," she mumbled.  
"The next four are more complicated so I hope that you learn to count better very.... Quickly." He spoke slowly and softly in the most eerie manner. Erin was petrified. "Now, if you wish to know all that you need to for the final exam for the first five years worth of potions, I suggest you get moving. And do several at once. I want you to be finished with page ten when you go to lunch, understood?"  
"Yes, sir."  
So the cauldrons were put to work, and Snape watched as the gears ground in her head. She put a scrap of parchment by each cauldron that she was working with labeled with the page in her leather-bound book that rode in the crook of her arm as she scurried about, measuring and stirring. She was a hard worker and more obedient than any student who had come through Snape's class. She singed her fingers a couple of times and let a drop of one element or another slip onto the countertop by accident, but she immediately cleaned it up. It was near noon when she told him that her second potion was done. Not perfect. But it was done. One by one, she turned off the burners beneath them. Snape looked over the last one, then declared, "Run on to lunch. Be back here immediately after finishing."  
  
"Five potions?! He's going to bloody run you into the ground and kill you!" Ron exclaimed. "You can't let him do that to you."   
"Ron, she does have to make up four and half years of potions," Harry said.   
"It's not so bad." Erin spooned some food onto her plate. "Snape's terrifying.... But not wretched."   
"What class have _you_ been taking?" Ron stared at her with disbelief. "He didn't do anything.... Malicious?"   
"No. Well...." She thought about the love potion incident and turned a shade pinker. "Nothing I can't handle." Harry looked at the fragile girl who seemed that she could shatter at any moment and here she was, saying she could handle Snape. Maybe he was being a little gentle with her. Then, secretly, he thanked his least-favorite professor.  
  
Ron and Harry were battling it out with wizard's chess again while Erin and Hermione sat on the floor with potions books about them and a cauldron between them. Hermione stoked the fire beneath it with her wand. Erin had been assigned three potions that she would do and turn in samples to Snape the next morning before he gave her another set to do that night. She also had to complete nine inches of parchment on the uses of certain ingredients (given to her on a list by Snape) to complete by the next class she had with him the next week. "Erin, your fingers are burned!" Hermione said.   
Erin shrugged. "I'm okay. I'm bit clumsy sometimes. Don't worry about it."   
"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron smacked his wand on the board in frustration and the pieces scattered as the chess board flew through the air towards Erin's nearly completed third potion. But Erin intercepted it and the chess board was clamped harmlessly in her arms. "Bloody _hell_, Harry! Did you just see that?!" Ron's voice was amazingly high-pitched. "Did you see that catch?!"   
"I saw it Ron."   
"What.... About it?" Erin asked, setting the board back on their table. "Erin, what would you think about being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"   
"I've never played...."   
"That's okay!" Ron was very excited. "You're a natural keeper."   
"She's got her studies," Hermione warned.   
"That's okay, too!" Ron squeaked. Harry sat back and looked at the girl. Small, fast, with good reflexes. Wood had been a little tall for Keeper, but he was surprisingly good. Incredibly good. He adjusted his glasses.   
"Would you at least be willing to try out for the team? They're good blokes and good players. Fred and George are on it, you know them. Would you?" Erin knitted her fingers together, her arm tingling from where Oliver had rested his hand when he asked her to do exactly what she was offered now. Finally, she nodded.   
"Okay." Ron did a little dance and Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry beamed at her.   
"This weekend then? You can borrow someone's broom for a quick go."   
"Sure."   
"Erin, your potion's ready." Erin came and began ladling the thick sea- green goop into a flask, which she corked and Hermione waved her wand and the remainder in the cauldron vanished. Erin packed up the pot and her supplies and set them in their place by her bed before sitting in a chair by Harry and Ron with her book to start working on her list of ingredients.  
The Weasley twins fell through the entrance hole. "Good God, Fred. Do you always have to stumble over your robes?"   
"It's the Fat Lady. She trips me up on purpose. I swear!" They picked themselves up and came over to Erin. "Before-dinner cauldron cake?" Fred asked.   
"Don't eat it, Erin," Hermione said.   
"Aw, Hermione. It's just a little snack." So Erin took it and bit into it. She felt herself glowing and a weird sensation in her back as she sprouted wings. Fred and George looked at her curiously. She had beautiful white wings and a golden halo over her. She radiated light and smiled sweetly, clutching a harp in her lap.   
"Not quite as funny as the other one," George said. "But still very cute all the same."  
"Incredibly cute." Erin blushed deeply.   
"Magnificently cute."   
"Fantastically cute."   
"Monolithically cute."  
"I think you won that one George." Fred flopped into the big chair by Erin. "Eat one yourself. Show her what it does to us." He took a bite out of it and instantly grew a tail and knobs poked through his hair.   
"Ow. That time kinda' hurt with the horns," George noted, a pitchfork materializing in his hand. He turned very red and his face scrunched up into an evil smile. Erin giggled as her wings and harp disappeared. George proceeded to poke his little brother Ron in the head with his tail. Finally, his devil features faded and disappeared all together and he plopped himself on the opposite side of Erin from his brother. A couple of girls came in giggling. "Did you see Oliver? I didn't remember him ever looking that gorgey!"  
"He was fine, indeed. So sweet of him to...." And then their voices dropped out of hearing as they began to glance over at Erin, who had busied herself with smoothing out her book pages and inking her quill. But she didn't hear them. She didn't recognize the name. Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all exchanged knowing glances.  
Fred and George looked at each other, then together said, "There's a story we know about a little frog who sat on this shoulder." They touched Erin's shoulder closest to them. "And a little squirrel who sat on this shoulder...." They touched her far shoulder. "And.... Oh well, we forgot." And their arms dropped around her behind her neck.


End file.
